


The Faces of our Children

by Yarnings



Series: None More Scots [2]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, During quarantine, Gen, mention of mass shooting, set right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yarnings/pseuds/Yarnings
Summary: My decision to have None More Scots so strongly tied to specific dates means that having a doctor Claire and setting the story in Nova Scotia result in certain things needing to be addressed. Jamie is at Lallybroch with the girls in April of 2020.
Series: None More Scots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1269095
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	The Faces of our Children

**Author's Note:**

> I have skipped a few stories in the series, because I wanted to write a #NovaScotiaStrong story as my way of processing. The gaps will (probably) get filled in later.

Jamie walked over to the Lallybroch bunkhouse and left the bag on the front step. Julia had wanted to help, but all the adults involved had agreed that she was too likely a source of contagion to be allowed to handle anything for anyone who didn’t live in the same household. He gently knocked on the door, calling “Winston? You up?”

From inside came a reply. “Jamie? Have I lost that much track of time and it’s been two weeks already?”

Jamie laughed. “No such luck. But mom made some cinnamon buns, and I’ve left some on the step for you. We washed our hands before packing them up, and they’re in a second bag for an extra layer of protection. We’re still all healthy, but you may want to wash your hands after taking them out of the bag, eh? How are you holding up? Is there anything you need?”

“I wouldn’t mind a chance to get out and start working, but aside from that I’m fine for a bit. I can send you a text if I need something, don’t worry about me.”

“Glad to hear that you’re ok. You know that you don’t have to stay in there for your entire self-isolation, right? As long as we’re not around you can always come and walk around.”

“Oh, I have been, but it’s not the same as having something to do.”

“Well, my niece has offered to let you use her Rainbow Loom if you’re that bored, but I’d assumed that it hadn’t gotten that dire yet.”

Winston laughed and told Jamie to go enjoy the rest of the day. “It’s not that dire yet, and there’s worse things than getting paid to sit and do nothing.”

Jaime walked back to the house, taking the time to enjoy the spring sunshine. Normally there would be two or three workers in the bunkhouse this time of year, but with COVID-19 restrictions Lallybroch had been lucky to get Winston – not just because of the difficulties in getting workers into Canada, but because no one would have blamed him if he had decided to stay in Jamaica where he had actually had health care access, as Devon had decided to do this year. Ellen Mackenzie wouldn’t normally be sending baked goods over, but although they knew that Winston’s primary motivation for coming had been to pay his daughters’ school fees, the entire family was still grateful that he had come, and wanted to make sure that he felt appreciated.

Walking back to the farmhouse felt very different than it had during his childhood, and not just because this wasn’t really his home anymore. Never in his life had he had a lazy Sunday morning until the public celebration of mass had been cancelled, the same day that he and the girls had packed up to come to Lallybroch so that he could help with the farm until local workers could be hired. Claire was living alone in their house in the city, coming home to an empty house so that she wouldn’t risk infecting her family.

No one at Lallybroch knew what a lazy Sunday (or really any) morning looked like, so they had been experimenting. Due to the presence of so many extra people – not only Jamie and his two daughters, but Murtagh, who had been invited at the same time to move in and isolate together, so that he could also help with the farm – it felt somewhat like holidays, despite all the work to be done. This week Sunday morning involved early morning mass on Salt + Light (twice for Jamie, as Kitty was encouraged to watch in French and as the only fluent adult in the house he was nominated to watch with her), followed by his mother’s cinnamon rolls, some of which Jamie had just delivered to Winston. When he came back from washing his hands after making the delivery, Jamie found his mother, sister, brother-in-law and godfather crowded around the TV, watching a news bulletin. The children, even down to not-quite two-years-old Maggie and seventeen-month-old Brianna had been sent to the rec room to entertain themselves, an unusual situation in the easygoing family, where the kids knew that if they were tired of fighting with their siblings they were welcome to come and hang out with their parents instead.

What he heard from the TV did not reassure him.

“... may be driving a vehicle that looks like an RCMP cruiser, and wearing what looks like an RCMP uniform...”

“What’s happening?” His mother reached out for him, squeezing him tight to her side. Ian and Jenny were already hugging each other, and Jamie reached out a hand to Murtagh as his mother explained that there was a gunman in Portapique.

Already stressed by worries of keeping their families safe (and educated) while trying to provide an essential service with fewer workers than normal, no one in the room had emotional capacity to handle a tragedy of this magnitude. Ellen took a book and sat in a corner of the living room and read for most of the day. Ian took refuge in reading too, but he grabbed some picture books and entertained the smallest children, letting them snuggle into his lap. Jamie went outside to do some of the work that was his ostensible purpose in being at Lallybroch. When he came back inside, hoping to find a bite of something to eat, he discovered his sister putting together a late lunch for the whole gang of children, who had finally gotten hungry enough to stop playing and come whining for a meal.

“I was glued to the news until they announced that they’d got him,” she told Jamie, as he slipped into the kitchen. Any reply he might have made was cut off by Brianna, who upon seeing him starting excitedly chanting “Dadadadadada”. Grabbing her as she ran to him, he checked her diaper before picking her up and swinging her into a hug.

“Thanks for watching her, Ian.” “No worries, Jamie. We probably need to run another load of diapers though.” Jamie took the hint and went to grab the bag of diapers and throw it into the washing machine. “I miss my diaper service.” he said, without rancor, as he returned to the kitchen. He washed his hands again, and began to help with the process of herding the children through getting ready. He resolved to be more present for the kids. It wasn’t fair to Ian and Jenny, and it wasn’t fair to Faith and Brianna – they were already down a parent for the next few months as it was.

By the time that Claire called after her shift that evening, Jamie had spent enough life-giving time being chased by a pack of children that he was able to provide her with the emotional support she needed, rather than leaning on her. She chatted with both Julia and Brianna, and stayed on the line to listen while Ian played In Memory of Herbie MacLeod on his fiddle, which he had taken out for the evening. As Ian segued into Amazing Grace, Claire bid Jamie farewell. Although, as she had explained a couple of weeks ago, she was in a lot of ways less busy than before (between elective surgeries being cancelled, and the emergency room seeing significantly fewer visits), it was high-stress work, and she wanted to make sure she stayed well-rested.

* * *

The wake of a significant tragedy is always somewhat surreal, and that is no less true of the deadliest mass shooting in Canadian history. For those raised in the era of twenty-four hour news, a tragedy of that magnitude that does not dominate the headlines for the week afterwards feels even more disconnected from reality. But when the time of national mourning shares space with another, ongoing, tragedy, specifically one that can yet have its impact mitigated by having information shared with the public, the stories have to share space in the news.

The week passed in numbness. Even in times of disaster and mourning (perhaps especially in those times), the work of a farm continues unabated. So, too, do the needs of children. Diapers must be washed, meals must be prepared, schooling must be enabled and bedtime stories must be read. Ian had has fiddle, Jenny had her crochet, and Ellen had her painting, but Jamie had nothing to help him find wholeness again. His centre wasn’t in art, it was in Claire, and she was away in the city, living alone in a house that was supposed to be full of family.

* * *

Saturday afternoon, Jamie and Murtagh were watching the girls doing what they claimed was a painting project, but seemed more like a mess-making project that threatened to wake the toddlers up from their naps. Suddenly Murtagh gave a grunt and left the room, leaving Jamie to be accosted by his sister.

“Alright, you’re coming with me.” The girls looked up, worried that a new chore was about to take them away from painting. Jenny reassured them that she didn’t mean them before it occurred to Faith or Caitlin to tantrum about wanting to keep painting. She glared at her brother until he grudgingly complied.

“Jamie, you aren’t taking care of yourself. You aren’t fooling anyone by spending that much time with the girls. You need to do something for yourself, something that isn’t just work or supervising the children.”

“Fine, Janet, I’ll go for a walk.”

“Do you trust yourself to not just start working?”

“... How about I call Fr. Bill?”

“That’s a good start. And here. For after or during or before if you need.” She thrust a skein of yarn with a crochet hook stuck through it and a printed-off pattern for Jamie. “Make them in pairs, I’ll send them to the hospital along with mine.”

Fortunately for Jamie, the pastor from his home church was available right away. They had a good talk. After the call ended he looked at the project that Janet had shoved at him. She wanted him to crochet hearts. Right, because that was the sort of thing that would help him. But he took a closer look, and realised that this was a project she had mentioned doing for the hospital. He was supposed to make pairs of the hearts, so one could be sent to someone in hospital who couldn’t have family with them, and the other one sent to the family who would normally be allowed to visit. Even if it wasn’t the most helpful thing, it was something, and part of what he was feeling right now frustration at not being able to do anything, so despite not having crocheted in almost 2 decades, he picked up the hook.

In the end, he made just 4 hearts, all identical. He went to where the girls were still painting, now joined by Brianna and Maggie who had finished their naps and were finger painting. Crouching down, he picked up a paper next to Brianna.

“Bree, is this yours? Should we give it to your mommy?” She gave him her wide grin. “Mommy!” she replied, pushing at the still damp paper. He carefully put it on a shelf to finish drying, and asked Faith. “Do you have a picture that you’d like to send to Mommy too?” Faith carefully selected one of her paintings, and proceeded to give him a detailed explanation of what was in it, so he could write down the description for Claire. That evening, once the paintings were dry, he packed them into an envelope along with one of the hearts, and a note for Claire.

_My heart. I miss you so much I can’t bear it. I need you beside me all the time. But right now, when everything is so broken, and when the reason you’re not here is that you’re putting yourself in danger, I don’t know what I will do. You know that you already have my heart, but I’m sending you a reminder of that. I’m keeping a matching one, and I have some for the girls too. Carry it? You have all my love,_

_Jamie_

He put the envelope where it would get taken out in the next couple of days (with all the delays in the mail anyhow, he could survive a few extra days). Then he went to bed and had his first good night’s sleep in a week.

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**Author's Note:**

> \- I'm not up for debating the ethics of hiring SAWP workers here, but I will point out that there is health care access, but only through private insurance.  
> \- Before anyone questions everyone travelling to the farm, Nova Scotia had not shut things down yet at the time that Jamie and Murtagh moved to the farm.  
> \- I do not have a Watsonian explanation for why Ian plays In Memory of Herbie MacLeod. Feel free to invent your own if it bothers you  
> \- Yes, Jamie has a pastor. It's a job description though, for the priest who is at a specific church, not a career title. No, your friend who says that "Catholics have priests, not pastors" really hasn't been paying attention.  
> -I am not including the recent helicopter crash because the story is depressing enough as it is.


End file.
